


Common Prayers

by Curator_of_Curiosity



Series: There's Only One God, Ma'am... [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1930s, 1940s, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Canon Compliant, Christianity, Episcopalian Bucky Barnes, Fever, Friendship, Gen, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Prayer, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Religious Content, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28941357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curator_of_Curiosity/pseuds/Curator_of_Curiosity
Summary: Bucky doesn't pray until he feels like he has to, and when he does he’s not sure how.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers
Series: There's Only One God, Ma'am... [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1493987
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Common Prayers

In 1936, Sarah Rogers passed on. Two weeks after, Steve almost followed after her.

When Bucky found him after showing up at Steve’s uninvited—Steve didn’t always tell Bucky when things were wrong, but Bucky could generally tell—Steve was lying crumpled against the wall of the kitchen, practically passed out and straining to breathe. He’d looked smaller than usual. And frail. 

Odd as it may sound, he didn’t tend to think of Steve as frail, not normally. Steve fought too often to give anyone that chance, even if Steve had always looked like a gust of wind might knock him down before the other guy did.

Even when Bucky was carrying Steve to somewhere more comfortable, when he was sitting at the end of the couch, when he was trying to bring Steve’s fever down, Bucky had felt this numbness spreading through his whole body, like this wasn’t real, like it wasn’t happening.

“You should’ve told me,” said Bucky, but it seemed that Steve was past the point of hearing him.

Bucky pressed the cold, damp cloth over Steve’s forehead. A shudder racked through Steve’s body, and the sudden motion made Bucky jump.

_Oh, God… Oh, Lord…_

Bucky thought of himself as a Christian, but Steve was the one who prayed. Bucky wasn’t a praying Christian till he needed to be. He hardly knew how to pray beyond rambling snatches of things he’d heard in church as a child, so that was how he prayed when he did.

… _God of all comfort, our only help in time of need…_

_…Behold and visit and…_

_…God… I pray the Lord…_

_…Give him patience under his affliction…_

_I… You have to help him, Lord…_

_…Grant that he be restored to perfect health which…_

_…Oh, Lord, I… it’s…_

_…it’s thine alone to give…_

It was fragmentary and jumbled and didn’t make much sense, but Bucky hoped God knew what he meant. 

He must have known, since Steve’s fever eventually broke.

It wasn’t the first time. It wasn’t the last either, but it was the time that flashed through Bucky’s mind when he got his orders—just for a split second, how it could happen all over again, only this time he wouldn’t be there to look after him if it did. He might not even know, might never find out.

***

It was autumn of 1943, and in a bizarre miracle of science and circumstance, God finally granted Steve the perfect health he hadn’t had for his whole existence. Bucky thought he was hallucinating at first when Steve found him. He didn’t believe it was actually him until Steve was helping him to stand.

But Bucky still felt HYDRA breathing down his neck, creeping through his mind. He didn’t sleep much. Sometimes he couldn’t relax enough to even shut his eyes.

Steve noticed. Bucky could see that concerned look he got in his eyes. Bucky was grateful he’d asked him about it when everyone else was out of earshot.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Steve had asked.

Bucky nodded. “I’m fine.” At least, he figured he would be sooner or later.

“You’re sure you’re ready to go back?”

“Yeah,” Bucky had said. “Think so.”

But he still couldn’t rest. He couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t over. They’d be back for him. Whatever anyone else might believe—or seem to believe—Bucky couldn’t help but think the worst was still ahead of him.

If anything, in a twisted way, it did turn him into a praying Christian.

_…Almighty God…_

_…O Lord God of hosts…_

_…Our Father who art in heaven…_

_…Hallowed be…_

_…but God,_ why _?_

Sometimes he wondered if it was punishment for something, but he wasn’t sure what it could be punishment for.

Steve still gave him that worried look when he thought Bucky wouldn’t notice—and sometimes when Bucky was sure Steve knew he’d notice—but neither man said much about it. Bucky wasn’t sure whether he wished Steve would say something, or if he was glad he kept it to himself. He’s not sure he’d talk about it if Steve ever asked.

***

It was 2015, and Bucky was… well, he was somewhere. He still barely remembered who he was—He wasn’t even sure of his last name, and he wasn’t sure if _Bucky_ was his given name or his nickname—but he held on tightly to the things he did remember. They were his most treasured possessions.

There was a scrawny orange alley cat that showed up every now and then, and Bucky would feed it. The cat reminded him a bit of the Steve he grew up with back in Brooklyn, and he nicknamed it after him. He thought that might’ve amused Steve.

He missed him, but part of him dreaded the idea of seeing him again. If Steve ever figured out everything Bucky had done—which would be a difficult task; Bucky hadn’t even begun to figure out everything he’d done—would he still want him around? Or would that be the end of the line?

He wanted to pray again. He seemed to remember doing something like praying, but the memory of it was still hazy. Just about everything he’d been taught had been ripped out of his head and most of it still hadn’t come back.

_Help me, Lord_.

It was the only prayer Bucky could remember how to say.

***

It was sometime after Germany, when they were headed for Wakanda, and for some reason—maybe he thought there’d never be another chance to talk about it—Steve finally decided to bring it up.

“You know, the day you got your orders, back in ’43…” Steve paused, as if to figure out if he should keep going. “For a moment I thought if I could just go with you, everything would be okay. After I got there, I hoped I’d run into you again somewhere.”

If they’d been having that conversation in ’44 or even ’45, Bucky might’ve made a dry, sarcastic remark— _“Bet you regret that now, huh?”_ —but now he didn’t feel like joking about it. Deep down, and maybe a bit on the surface-level too, he thought Steve _did_ regret it.

Steve kept going. “I thought something might happen to you before I did.” He paused for a long time, and it was like he couldn’t make himself look at Bucky. “Seeing you like that, back then… It was like a nightmare.”

Bucky didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure what to say. Was Steve asking for forgiveness? He couldn’t be. It didn’t make sense.

“I should’ve started looking for you sooner,” said Steve.

“Steve,” said Bucky. “None of this is on you.”

“I know, Buck,” said Steve. But he didn’t sound like he knew.

_Help him, Lord._

***

It was 1942, and they were sitting in the kitchen table at Steve’s place. Bucky was bandaging Steve’s arm, which was scraped and bloodied from where he’d hit the pavement behind the diner when his opponent knocked him down. Maybe his dad was right. Maybe he should become a doctor.

“You should see the other guy," Steve said.

He had. The other guy was about twice Steve’s size and didn’t have a scratch on him.

Steve looked at the bruise forming on Bucky’s forehead—the other guy had hit him pretty hard when he’d intervened—with a furrowed brow. “You should put something on that.”

“I’ll get to it,” said Bucky.

_You have to help him, Lord_.

**Author's Note:**

> Bucky's first couple prayers include lines from the 1928 Book of Common Prayer.
> 
> Also, I finally figured out how to format my fics properly, so at some point I'll go back and edit the others (in this series, at least), so they look a little neater.


End file.
